


Birds of a Feather

by LovelyLessie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-26
Updated: 2012-07-26
Packaged: 2017-11-10 19:43:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/469951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyLessie/pseuds/LovelyLessie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a couple months since Dean moved into his apartment here in town, and the guy who sits in the park drawing birds has always just been a background figure. Dean figured he always would be, but honestly, he's glad he was wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birds of a Feather

**Author's Note:**

  * For [needsmoreyellow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/needsmoreyellow/gifts).



> Inspired by the lovely Breanne who came up with the idea and said it would be okay if I wrote something for it!!

It's got to be fifteen degrees below freezing outside as Dean tramps down the street, shoulders hunched against the wind and arms curled up against his chest in a desperate attempt to preserve body heat. 

“Jesus,” he mutters darkly, dragging his feet through the snow. “Have to be out of your friggin' mind to go anywhere today.”

He isn't sure there was even a point in going to work—he has a sneaking suspicion, after all, that it would be too cold to do anything. There's been a couple light snowfalls already, but until yesterday the temperature's been just on the verge of freezing. Besides, only the major roads have even been plowed yet after the unexpected storm, so the chances anyone is going to be able to get their car out of the driveway are pretty slim, whether or not it needs repairs.

Still, here he is, fighting to get down the sidewalk through a foot of snow at least, because he's been late four times this month and missed work entirely once already; if they're open today and he doesn't show, that'll be it for the job, and he'll have to pack up and find somewhere else just when he was starting to like this town.

Well, when it isn't freezing cold and covered in snow, anyways.

Something catches his eye, and for the first time since he left the apartment he looks up to see someone sitting on a bench in the middle of the goddamn park, apparently oblivious to the cold. Of course, he seems pretty oblivious to everything, except whatever he's drawing—he's the same guy who sits there every day, with his sketchbook and pencils, apparently oblivious to the world.

Guy must be crazy, Dean thinks, and shakes his head. Like he said before, anyone out and about today has to be totally nuts.

\--

When he gets to work, he's a little annoyed but not at all surprised to find a note taped on the door saying they're closed. Go figure. 

He sighs, shivering, and turns to run across the street to the coffee shop. They're open, at least. Thank god, he thinks as he pushes open the door and steps into the warm cafe. The cute blonde barista smiles and waves at him, and he grins back, but he's not interested in flirting right now.

“Hey, can I get a hot chocolate?” he asks, and then pauses. “Actually, you know what? Make that two.”

“No problem, Dean,” she says, giving him that flirtatious look as she turns away. He shuffles awkwardly, not used to situations where he doesn't want to encourage ladies to make passes at him. It's a relief when someone comes up behind him and gives him an excuse to get out of the way as soon as he's paid for the drinks.

With one steaming cup in each hand, he leaves and hurries back up the street towards home, but he's got a stop to make first, at the city park halfway there.

“Hey,” he says, stopping by the bench where the crazy artist is sitting. The artist looks up, and Dean is startled by the bright, stunning blue of his eyes. “I, uh, thought you looked cold,” he adds quickly, and holds out one of the cups. “Figured maybe I'd grab you something warm to drink. Be kind of a dick move to walk past you again with my hot chocolate on the way back to my warm apartment, sooo...”

“Thank you,” the artist says, sounding genuinely grateful, and he gives Dean a small smile. “I appreciate that.” He accepts the drink, balancing his sketchbook on his knees as he takes a sip. 

“I see you here a lot,” Dean says, brushing snow off the bench so he can sit down. 

“Yes,” agrees the artist. “I've seen you as well. You always walk past on your way to work.”

Dean blinks, surprised; he didn't realize this guy ever noticed him. “I'm Dean,” he says after a minute.

“Castiel,” the artist replies, smiling. “It's good to meet you.”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees, grinning sheepishly back at Castiel. “You, too.”


End file.
